Gemotions

The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of the stalled elevator. I watched my reflection in the polished steel doors, a stranger staring back. My eyes were dull, the lines etched around my mouth deeper than usual. The trapped feeling was not new; it was the echo of a thousand locked doors in my past.

"Well, this is just great," Michael, my coworker, said. His usual boisterous energy seemed subdued, a testament to the oppressive atmosphere. He leaned against the wall, a sigh escaping his lips.

I remained rooted to my spot, my shoulders hunched. The weight of the world pressed down, crushing. I wanted to scream, to lash out, to break something. But the energy to do so was gone, replaced by a hollow void.

He started telling a joke, a weak attempt to break the tension. I gave a small, involuntary twitch of a smile. I looked away. The thought of three hours felt like an eternity.